Australia, since the Lunch break, have lost four wickets for six runs. Now that’s some bowling by India. Or some dud batting by the home side. Nah, not really. This pitch has taken on the persona of a 1930’s sticky wicket. You know the ones, back in the day, whereby said pitch was left uncovered for the duration of an inclement weather’s temper tantrum. Upon the resumption of play this rabble-rousing rectangle spewed forth unseemly amounts of mud. Even batting’s one true God, Don Bradman, could average not more than twenty-one on sticky wickets. Which means the South Australian was going at well over one hundred for his innings on ordinary pitches. Not the worst around, was he. Now the modern day athletes know what the old timers were going through. One moment Pat Cummins is bowled by an ankle knocker that knocked on middle stump’s welcoming door. The next you’ll see Usman Khawaja being molested by leather’s sharpness 1.7 metres or so from Terra Firma. Talk about mood swings. This pitch has it all. One minute Australia are sauntering through to 192 for 4, then, suddenly, they find themselves in a rather perilous state at 198 for 8. Mind you, they still possess a two hundred and sixty-one run lead which is currently climbing. . . Just. And India have to chase this over the last day and a half. Good luck to them on that front. They’re going to require all they can get. They could also do with Bradman. They do have Kohli. But then, as good as the Indian Captain may be, and is, he’s no Bradman. They could do with the greatest of all time right now. Because this is a rather sticky situation for the Indian batsmen.

Colin de Grandhomme’s pace is as threatening as the National Party’s poll ratings during a Jamie Lee Ross text flurry. Yes, he may recover somewhat in the aftermath yet during the storm lightening and thunder strike the demented soul of his plodding one hundred and twenty-five kilometre per hour arm warmers. And warm is being kind. They could barely friction air’s pulse let alone explode it into a riposte of respiration profoundly voicing its velocity. So why, why O why, does he feel the urge to bowl no-balls? How difficult could it possibly be for he to propel forth his unwieldly vista of untamed bulk toward the popping crease without overstepping the mark? Sure, accepted the Zimbabwean born allrounder does not overstep on purpose. But, really, a no ball at the clicks of lead, not warp Sci-fi. Then it happens. As only it could on a no ball. Dimuth Karunaratne hits a full toss – Yes, a full toss and a no ball, De Grandhomme has mediocrity’s market cornered – straight to extra cover for the simplest of snares. The New Zealander’s, having Sri Lanka already in trouble at three for thirty-one and now not much more than sixty, with the Opener looking untroubled in his early thirty’s, miss an opportunity to stab the heart of one of their foe’s top practitioners. Survives he does. And then proceeds to pile on a further forty-five runs until finally dismissed for seventy-nine and the visitor’s now 142 for 4. Not 60 for four. Possibly a match defining moment. Only time will tell. But all so avoidable for New Zealand. I guess they’ll just have to suck it up.

The fifth day of this first Test Match of the series, a session and a half to game's end, Australia require sixty-four runs to win, India desire two wickets. This, folks, is why we have a fifth day in Tests. And this folks is why we must keep a fifth day in Test Matches.